Reinvention
by The.Black.Keys.Are.Freedom
Summary: Since high school, Bella's done her best to prove herself to everyone while keeping them happy. It tires her and slows her down. After a night of horrible news and new family secrets, she realizes she has no idea who she is and has no one to ask anymore. Finding an old flame lights a whole new world when she goes on an adventure not only to find herself, but to find another too.
1. Prologue

I would know that mess of hair within a crowd of millions. I've never known anyone with that stance, that feeling of clarity and dignity.

Maybe he's just what I need. Maybe he can help me tell other people I don't care.

Without thought, or decision, finally without planning something, I swerve my car to the right and slam on the brakes sending my whole torso flying towards the wheel and then back to the harsh leather seats. I wrenched myself out of the car tripping over the bottom and almost falling face first onto the pavement. I call his name.

"Edward! Edward please!" I scream his name over and over until I reach him. He's turned around, bewildered and looking around me, observing his surroundings. "Please, Edward, I need you please!" I'm begging and I don't care, the police officers took my dignity when they walked out of my front door.

"Bella? Is that you? Are you ok?" His face is worried and shaken. His features hold recognition, scrunched and bright. It's all too familiar.

"Help me Edward, please."


	2. Chapter 1

I wish I had a typewriter.

They're old and when you mess up, you can't fix your mistakes. You don't have to. Typewriters don't have to be anything other than themselves, and they're okay with the fact that they're impractical; they don't try and change for anyone else.

That's probably why so many people miss older times. Simpler things, simpler rules, simpler mindsets. If someone created a product that was unsatisfactory, they didn't try and make it better, they just made a whole damn new product.

Hippies were frowned upon but they didn't try and change, they didn't try and be something else when they knew what they stood for.

Unlike most people today.

Now-a-days, half the people in this world don't even know what personal standards are. They don't know what personal beliefs and regulations are to themselves, so how in the hell do they think they can please others? They can't even please themselves. She wears a grey pants suit everyday to work because that's what everyone else is wearing. But what if a pink suit was allowed, but She didn't even know that She liked pink suits? That She didn't even know she liked anything other than what people told her to? What if, with everything going on around her, She couldn't see past the strong wants and needs of her fellow friends, that She doesn't understand Her own? What if I was Her?

* * *

My name is Bella. My mother used to tell me I liked ribbon candy on Christmas and my father told me I like cars. I also seemed to like singing and music, and apparently I was gifted in those things. My brother tells me my favorite TV show deals with spies, awkward moments, and a man who doesn't like guns.

But tell me, shouldn't a man who is trained as a spy, runs with the big boys, kills people on a daily basis, use guns?

I wear the same thing every day, and I don't dress up my uniform. My mother once told me I look like I'm trying to hard if I wear an extra scarf or necklace.

I feel the need for you to know she was a wonderful woman with set strait ideals and a wonderful mindset. I love my mother.

Today, as every other Friday, my alarm tells me that I need to rise out of bed at five so that I can be fully ready for the day and on the road to work by six. I'll get there at six-thirty.

I file papers into sections other people decided, though such a thing as tax paperwork and IRS paperwork seems to fit better when it has the same section.

I get out of bed, and shower using my signature smell shower gel of strawberries and cream as I do every day, and put on a darker grey of a suit today where as yesterday and this whole past week I've worn light grays.

I'll be sure to receive compliments.

I look in the mirror to brush my teeth and comb my hair, and I sing a song from the 80's that doesn't seem to look right. I tug my hair into a tight bun on the back of my head, my usual brown hair straining to get free, but with a carefully measured amount of hairspray, it stays in place and doesn't look greasy or messy, how society tells me to wear it.

I grab my key chain that has a standard set of house keys, car keys, and a set of keys to my father's house, along with my wallet that carries my Starbucks rewards card.

I'm a business woman after all.

After entering my silver sedan, not too big and not too small, I drive my normal route to work, stopping at Starbucks to get my usual coffee, black. I wonder what it would taste like if I added a cream.

My work is a building that carries different statures of people and different clicks of coworkers. The IT men, secretaries, and higher ranking business men and women who seem to think they're better than the others. I should be categorized in one of those sections, but I run with a different group who don't run in a group at all. I run with everyone.

I say hi to Jim, the janitor as I walk though the plain glass doors into the large white lobby. I wave high to Becky, the front desk woman as she's on the phone. She waves back and smiles, something I expected, we exchange this every day.

In the elevator I see the doorman who presses floor eleven for me; He doesn't even have to ask.

I'm half tempted to tell him to press ten instead, and I would take stairs the last floor, maybe get in a little exercise, stretch my legs, but I'm sure he would think me absurd. Why would I do that anyway?

My pristine hands circle my heavy briefcase as I struggle to hold it up. The doorman, Henry, offers to take it for me, but he knows I'll say no, because I'm a tough, but gentle woman who can carry her own. I'm not dependent on anyone, and he doesn't even think twice when I answer.

"No thank you, Henry"

In my office I see the same thing as I did the day before. A clean desk and a wall with multiple shelving units that keep everything in place. My secretary doesn't like to see mess, and if she did she would offer to clean it, but I'm too committed to being a strong figure, and so I wouldn't want her to do that for me, there would be no need as long as I kept everything as well as myself in its place.

My office has a large windowed wall on the let as you walk in, and I peak at the same view I see every day.

Today I feel sluggish and tired, but I also productive and so I start on m paperwork that Stacy, my personal secretary has left on my desk. I'm currently the CEO of my father's company. We buy companies, and then we sell them, we buy more and then we'll sell those too. He'll call me today at 10. He'll check on my progress as he does every workday, and I'll pick it up and tell him it's going fine even though it's not. My piles of paperwork, though carefully hidden are piled high and are filled with complicated projects that I have simply been too tired to accomplish lately. I don't want to bother him with worry or have him feel the need to help because it is his company. I want him to feel I've earned everything I've worked towards for the past eight years, every shoulder injury I've endured by the sheer weight of the world. Or the company.

But I shouldn't complain.

* * *

At eleven A.M. I start to become anxious. I haven't received a single phone call from my father, and nor has he called Stacy.

I'm not anxious at noon, I'm worried. I then think I'd be labeled as clingy and overprotective, so I continue to wait. What do I have to tell him anyway?

At one I start to panic, but then Stacy comes in and tells me I have a last minute meeting. On the outside I'm calm, cool and collected so I agree, and follow her out. I look back at my desk when she passes out the doorway, and I see the mounds of confusing paperwork that has a deadline that doesn't seem to come slow enough. It smirks and laughs at me, and yells that I'm a failure that I won't be able to get it done.

I look forward and take a deep breath. Calm, cool and collected.

* * *

I don't bother to call my father when I get back from the meeting exactly three hours later. I've convinced myself that he must simply be busy overseeing the many different branches of his company. Something he's worked toward for many years. He's a hardworking man who is loyal to not just his company, but also to his family.

Him and my mother were married close to twenty years. Sometimes I'd watch them when I was younger and hope one day that I would find what they have. That special love that almost makes you sick to your stomach. But that was then and this is now, now I have too much work to focus on anything other than that, and that's where my focus will stay. If my father can stay loyal to all of it, then so can I.

At my desk I get through a quarter of my pile of paperwork, twice as much as I have in the past week in itself, and when my day is over I feel accomplished, like I'm doing the right thing by everyone in my office. If I get my work done, then I am well respected and well deserved of my position as a CEO. I've shown them that I didn't get this position because I am related to the overseer of this company, I got it because I'm qualified.

Leaving the offices I stop to speak with Jenny, the only girl on the IT tech team and we chat about her family and her new niece. I can't bring myself to care sometimes, I barely know the woman and we are nothing alike but I smile and nod and say my many congratulations because I should. I'm supposed to, and it makes her happy. If it makes her happy, then I'm happy.

_I think._

* * *

It's nine PM and I'm watching my favorite show. I keep thinking that this man should learn how to use a gun, and that it's pointless for him to be a spy if he can't shoot a bullet.

A doorbell wakes me from my protest.

_What is someone doing ringing my doorbell so late?_

Standing from my couch I slide on my slippers, and close my robe. My door is large, brown, and seemingly intimidating. The doorbell rings again and I rush to look through the peephole to see the intruders.

They weren't intruders, they were badges. Or rather people wearing badges. Police.

Opening the door, I see two well dressed men in stereotypical police uniform, and heavy boots that look to weigh a ton.

"Miss, may we come in?" The burly one on the left says, he wears an easy smile, but my stomach churns. What do they want?

"Of course, please do. You can take a seat on the sofa, would you like anything? Tea, coffee?" I proceed with my usual greeting for visitors as they first walk in the door.

The lanky one from the right smiles and nods quickly and definitively, "I'll take some coffee if you don't mind. I take it black. " I look at the burlier cop and he holds up his right hand in a no thank you gesture.

Curiosity writhes in my chest as I pour a fresh brew into a heat-safe mug. Maybe I should have just had them sit down and get right to business. _That wouldn't have been polite._

Joining them in the living room, I hand the lanky cop his coffee and sit adjacent to them.

"What can I do for you officers?" I ask a bright smile on my face. I'm innocent and I'm polite.

"Ma'am, my name is George," the burly one says, "and this here is Kyle, my partner." George points to his lanky sidekick. "Today, we were called to a crash scene involving two vehicles. One of the vehicles belonged to your father, Charlie Swan. He was ambulanced to the nearest hospital but I'm so sorry Miss, he was pronounced brain-dead on the scene at six fifty-six this morning. I'm so sorry ma'am, you have our condolences." The cop looked sympathetic as I stared at him, unable to process what I had just heard.

"Thank you officers, did the doctors mention when it would be okay to visit him? What hospital was he taken to?" I question, my mind reeling. I stayed reasonably calm until Officer Kyle spoke.

"Saint Josephine's hospital. He's in good care." It was short, but it wasn't harsh. The situation had finally started to register. My heart tugged at my veins and my whole body felt sore.

"How," I choked. "How did the accident happen?"

George was the one who spoke this time, but his voice wasn't anymore soothing then Kyle's. "A drunk driver had just left his home when he ran a red light and hit your father on the driver's side of his vehicle. Unfortunately this happens too often, and we are doing our best as a force to stop it in its tracks."

I glared at him. "Don't you dare say this..." I gulped, "_accident_ is just like all the others. Why am I just learning about his now? Don't you know how to do your job?" I realized I was yelling, but my calm and collected self was gone as soon as they introduced themselves.

The officers flinched little to none, and comforted me as much as they could but I had soon gone into a dormant state of shock. They gave me the rest of their condolences and walked towards the door.

"Thank you, Officers." I nodded, and as they left, they took with them my dignity.

* * *

The weekend came at the time it needed to, but I barely registered the time. I forgot work and I forgot about duty. That Saturday I rose from my depression to fix something to eat, but I realized with much grief that I was out of everything but some old cheese and leftover Chinese food. Thinking it might help, I mindlessly grabbed my keys and decided to get out of the house. It started as a drive to the grocery store, but as I passed it I realized I was going nowhere. I didn't have a schedule, I was pleasing anyone or even trying to, and I wasn't doing what I was expected to.

I liked it.

* * *

**A/N: Don't forget to review! Lots of love!**


	3. Chapter 2

The silence was different. It wasn't just my surroundings that were quiet, it was my mind. For once I wasn't thinking about the now, what I had to do when, and how to execute it. I was thinking about my past. How did I get here, draining myself every day and every night thinking of the next? How did I start to believe that I could help others when I didn't have any idea how to help myself? When did it become so hard to think of myself?

I recall the time of my mother. She was a wonderful woman and it was the sweetest thing to watch her with my father. They were happy through thick and thin, through my father's absurd work hours and my mother's night owl tendencies. My father tended to be a little distant to my brother and I, but I never thought anything of it. After my mother's death, he was much more focused on making us happy, and being a part of our lives. He wanted to be there for everything.

Maybe I should be there for him. Did I even have the guts to see him? I didn't know how I could witness him so lifeless, lying there, weary like death. I imagine the room light, with a dark overcast over my father.

I feel my eyes tear up and I scream. My hands slam against the wheel over and over until I'm sure they're bruised and swollen. My throat rips with the power of my sobs, each one interrupted with broken intakes of breath. I can barely see through my windshield. It looks like there's a fast and hard down pour that my wipers can't clear but I know it's just me. I'm driving in conditions just as dangerous as the drunk driver who killed my father. My loving, protective, unorthodox father.

I remember him tucking me in at night laughing as I squirm out of the blanket so that he would do it all over again. He'd sing me a lullaby when I wasn't tired while wearing matching monkey pajama's just because. He taught me how to cast and reel a rod though I never liked it much. I remember him teaching me to drive in a big orange, god awful truck, yelling at me with his hands telling me its left, right and then _left again_.

Suddenly he's there next to me in my silver car, telling me I either need to stop crying or pull of the road. I laughed a small, breathy laugh and pulled off the road. He was there and his arms of sunlight were wrapping around me helping me stand when I needed him like he did my whole life. Looking out the windshield, I realized that I was back on my fallen horse and I had one thing I needed to do.

* * *

Pulling into the Saint Josephine's Hospital parking lot was tearing me into pieces. I briefly thought of my brother, I wondered if he knew, and where he was.

The warm feel of my pajamas comforted me as I walked into the lobby. I realized I never changed for the store, and I was incredibly relieved by my decision. I was numbly escorted to the room, and the nurse left me with a sympathetic look.

I didn't want it.

Walking in, there was a curtain. The more I looked at it, the more I touched it, the heavier it felt. I thought it was crushing me, weighing me down, and yet at the same time it was the only thing standing between me and my final decision.

_Did _I_ have to make the decision?_

Taking one more step forward I started to slide the curtain just enough so I could slip through. My shoes were an easier thing to look at, at the moment, rather than the metal bed, the beeping monitor. The _slowly_ beeping monitor.

"Bella." A small voice spoke. It was cracking and breaking, and I could barely make out my name, but it was there and it lifted my head by my chin with soft hands.

_Emmett_.

A sob ripped out of my chest when I saw my brother's brown eyes. "Emmett, oh god. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

He reached me before I could fall but I was broken and we stood there in eachother's arms. Over his shoulder I finally saw what I had come here to see. _For the last time._ My father's eyes were closed and tinted blue, but I was wrong. It looked like he was sleeping. He was always so tired at work, and over the phone. He was finally getting the rest that he needed. The officer was right, he going to a better place.

Able to stand, I released Emmett and stood on my own two legs. Slowly I walked over the stiff chair next to my father and sat down, gripping his hand with all of my strength. I wished with all of my might that he could hear me. I had one thing to say, and I _needed_ him to hear it.

I looked over at Emmett and we shared a long, meaningful stare. He knew what I was asking.

"Bella, I don't know if I can. I can't do-"

"Emmett, what else? How else?"I interrupted, my voice dry, weak. I felt numb inside, but for once I wasn't making a decision for other people, off of a plan. It was Emmett, our father, and me in this room and that's all that mattered. I knew what needed to be done, and what was best for all of us. "Emmett," I pleaded.

His eyes watered and he seemed small. I saw him as my young big brother in his turtle pajama's and suddenly I was too. We were both weak, and childish and making a decision for adults, for people with capable hands. We were forced to make this decision as innocents.

"Okay." He said. One word, but it was it. It was the only wall standing between us and the final thing we will ever do with our father.

My shaking hands twisted and unwound themselves from their chains and pressed the shattering red button on the wall. I whispered my final statement to my father. The one statement I wish he was here for.

"I love you, Dad." I rested my head on my dad's chest as Emmett leaned in and said his final words.

The nurse walked in and I nodded.

"Pull it." I said.

I blinked and she was there at the bed, quiet and experienced.

It beeped once, twice, and then the beeping stopped.

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**A/N: Please review! Lots of love!**


	4. Chapter 3

_Three Months Later_

* * *

The days became easier. Each one wasn't really a small step but a large one. I'd thought that maybe it would have been better as I had gone through it before, but it takes you completely by surprise, picks you up, and throws you on the ground. It leaves you with no one to help you either.

Emmett quickly went back to his apartment in San Francisco while I stayed in Los Angeles. He didn't stay to talk or say goodbye really. I remember him leaving the hospital room and not coming back. He returned for the funeral, which was private, and so only a few people came. But he left soon after that as well.

I can't really blame him; I didn't want to talk either. I had nothing to say.

Things resumed with the company as they had before. I'd been offered my father's job, but I couldn't seem to find it in myself to take his place. He had done such a great job, and loved his position so much that I realized that I could never love it as much as he did.

I could never love this _place_ as much as he did.

I found a replacement for my father under the circumstances of if it came to it, I could make any final decisions I felt needed. No one could replace my father, and that came with a lack of trust.

Dealing with my father's death wasn't just emotional also. It came with many pages of complicated paperwork and big surprises.

The biggest I received was from my lawyer who was helping me go through my father's will. Apparently my father was much richer than he let on because he had a fortune under his name. After splitting it evenly with my brother I still had enough to send ten generations of my grandchildren and theirs through a fully paid four years at Julliard music school. Needless to say, I kept my money under my nose.

Though I've found a way to deal with everything that came with the circumstances, I still felt a gaping hole in my chest. I'd had glimpses of moments where I would rethink all of my decisions affecting now and the future. There was still a very large question that my father's death had raised within me.

_Who am I?_

It drove me absolutely insane. My mind would reel and I realized I had nothing to base it on other then smiles and hard work. I'd done nothing with my life but become a successful business woman and I didn't even know if I wanted that.

I wasn't the only one who had asked me that question. In the mornings I'd look myself in the mirror and I think of his voice asking me that exact same question.

"_Bella, who are you? You've spent your whole life focusing on others but when have you ever focus on yourself? Do you even know what your favorite movie is? Favorite thing to do, favorite sport? _

_I stared into his eyes. They were green and bright. Shining, like his future. I knew that if I asked him right now what his favorite color, his favorite book or his favorite memory was, he could tell me. He knew what he wanted to be. He didn't want to be successful, he didn't have big plans. He wanted to do what he loved. He didn't care what the hell it was, he just wanted to do it, and he wanted to do it for himself because he thought that if he did what he loved, the people around him would love him for it as well. But what if it wasn't enough?_

"_It's not that simple for me, and you know that. It's not about what I want." I replied. _

"_But it is, Bella. Have you ever sat down and thought to yourself what your favorite movie? What is it Bella, what's your favorite movie? Tell me right here, right now." His hair was as crazy as he was, flopping all over the place, but it was how he liked it. It was how I liked it. I knew nothing of myself except what I liked about him. What he was to me. But no matter how much I liked his psychopathic ways, he was aiming low, and I didn't like it. _

"_I don't know, Edward, but it sure as hell doesn't matter what fucking movie I like when I need to be focusing what colleges I want to go to." I was yelling, and I was angry. He had no right to be telling me what I should and shouldn't do when he had nothing in the pretty little head of his about what the future looked like for him. It didn't look so bright to me now. "What college are you going to Edward, huh? Have you sat down and thought about your future? You fucking sit here and criticize me for not knowing what fucking movie I like, yet you have no idea who you want to be. How you want to spend your life! It's senior year in high school, less than three months left until we're free Edward, what are you going to do afterwards?" My voice quiets at the end and his grows louder. _

"_The future doesn't matter to me. How am I going to plan the future if I don't know what the hell I'm doing now?" _

"_You're going to end up as a lifeless bum, Edward. Nothing but a fucking street rat, and you're going to sit there on your claimed park bench fucking thinking for hours upon days upon weeks wishing that you had had even one idea of what to do with your life. What are you going to do when you're twenty-five, and you're parents kick you out because you're a fucking hell of a mess, and you don't have a job because you were too busy thinking about what your favorite color was?" _

"_That's great Bella, really, just perfect. I'm gonna go right now and find which park bench I think is coziest while you go tuck you and that fucking stick up your ass into some lame business suit that you'll wear everyday for the rest of your life. How about you bring some change and visit me in hobo-land when you're ready to find out who you really are because I can tell you right now, the Bella I knew wouldn't dig herself into a hole so big she couldn't climb out of it. I'll be here with a shovel when you're ready for it, but I'm not dealing with you like this."_

_I watched him spin on his heel and storm away, but for some odd reason, he didn't look immature. He still had his pride with him, and he still knew who he was. So why did I feel like he took mine with him when he left?_

"Miss Swan?"

My focus shifted suddenly and I felt as though I was jolted awake. Stacy poked her head through my office door, and I looked at her as if she was something completely different.

"You have a phone call on line two." She continued.

I always wondered why certain things happened in life. Why my mother died when she did, and why my father passed when he did. But now I know. They didn't die, they sacrificed themselves. They found a better place for themselves so that I could find a better place for myself. Life had reason and rhyme; I just had to find mine.

"Er, Miss Swan?"

"I'm sorry Stacy. You're going to have to take a message." I said. I grabbed my coat, and my purse and not stopping to look back for any other belongings; I jogged out of my office. "I'm taking a day off. You're in charge." She looked at me like I had officially gone crazy. Maybe I had, it's only a matter of time for all of us right? I passed the elevator just as Henry stepped out to help me, but I merely waved and flew by, taking eleven flights of stairs to the lobby.

It seemed like the doors flew open, ready for me to leave as I leaped through the doorways and onto the street. Grabbing my car, I threw it into drive and took off without direction. I was going for a drive and I had no idea where, but I wasn't going to stop until I knew.

* * *

**A/N: Please Review! It gives me inspiration for more! Lots of love!**


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Review please! I appreciate any and all reviews. If you think I should do something different let me know, it's all a learning process. Lots of love!**_

* * *

_One hundred miles, and I still don't know where I'm going._

My grandfather used to take drives when he was upset, and I would look at him like he was crazy. A person driving three hundred miles when they had an argument seemed dramatic.

But now I understand.

I felt small in a world I didn't know, in places I haven't seen. It forced me to think of myself, and it felt nice.

My car wasn't used to all the driving, but I wasn't going to stop. Finding myself on the highway, I floored my poor sedan until the rpm's were dangerously high. I had no idea what I was doing, and the pavement flew behind me like my past. I needed somewhere that was quiet. Somewhere that was peaceful and had a flowing way about it, a place where my thoughts could flow with my environment.

**SANTA BARBARA  
10 MILES **

A bright green traffic sign flashed by and I slowed my car to the speed limit.

I was getting off into Santa Barbara.

The beaches are just what I needed. I realized fifty miles before this that I wasn't taking one day off from work, I was taking a holiday. Coming off of the exit, I saw beaches far off into the skyline, towns lit by lights in the dark areas, a full life of the rich. They looked happy of where they were. It made me continue to wonder why I wasn't.

Leaving the beach to the sunset for that night, I drove slowly into the downtown part of the city. It seemed full of life and as I looked around. There was a scarce amount of pedestrians roaming around, their faces lit by pale street lamps and moon light.

Then I saw it. I would know that mess of hair within a crowd of millions. I've never known anyone with that stance, that feeling of clarity and dignity.

_Oh my God._

* * *

_I laughed a screeching laugh and pounded on my attackers back as I flopped over his shoulder without warning. _

"_Edward, what are you doing?" I screeched. I could yell all I wanted to but he knew I was happy. He always knew how to make me happy._

"_I'm taking you to have fun." He replied, his strong hands gripped my thighs holding me in place so I wouldn't fall. "When's the last time you went mini-golfing?" Edward asked. _

"_Um, never? Put me down, Goliath!" _

_Edward placed me on my own two feet and I relished the solid ground. He stopped and turned to look at me. _

What, did I have two heads or something?

_He pressed his hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You sound a little wack-o. 'Ya know, a little like you have a stick up your ass, and that doesn't sound like my Bella at all." His smirk was a sign of his sarcasm, but I got stuck on him saying I was his Bella. _

_I shoved his shoulder, smiling and started towards his car. "Get your hand away from my face you idiot. No. I've never been mini-golfing." I had an annoyed tone but I didn't mean it. I could never be annoyed with Edward. _

"_Well then," he rubbed his hands together as if forming a master plan, a shit eating grin on his face. "There's a first or everything."_

* * *

_The door slammed open and shut with authority. I barely noticed, my mind was reeling and my throat was sore from continuous sobbing. I was starting to become numb._

_The sofa sagged next to me as Edward took a place in my father's living room. The room didn't feel alive to me. Everything was dull gray and blue. _

"_Are you okay?" Edward's voice was unsure. He faced towards me as he took his large hand and rested it on my back. _

"_She's gone, Edward." My sobs started again, and I collapsed. My head fell on his chest, and he rubbed soothing circles on my back. My eyes hurt from crying so much, and I didn't think that they could give out any more water, but Edwards's shirt was thoroughly soaked from my sadness. I couldn't bring myself to care, and neither could he. _

"_Everything's going to be okay, Bella. I promise you, we're going to get through this together. It's okay." He shushed me, resting his chin on my head. _

_My sobbing didn't cease, and I felt shattered. My mother didn't feel gone but at the same time, she wasn't here. The house didn't feel empty but it was so gray. _

_Edward pulled my legs onto his lap and rocked me back and forth. Softly shushing me until all that was left of my conscience was him._

* * *

Snapping back to the now, I realized something. Maybe he's just what I needed. Maybe he could help me tell other people I don't care.

Without thought, or decision, finally without planning something, I swerved my car to the right and slammed on the brakes sending my whole torso flying towards the wheel and then back to the harsh leather seats. I wrenched myself out of the car tripping over the bottom and almost falling face first onto the pavement. I call his name.

"Edward! Edward, please!" I scream his name over and over until I reach him. He's turned around, bewildered and looking around me, observing his surroundings. "Please, Edward, I need you please!" I'm begging and I don't care, the police officers took my dignity when they walked out of my front door.

"Bella? Is that you? Are you ok?" His face is worried and shaken. His features hold recognition, scrunched and bright. It's all too familiar.

"Help me Edward, please."

He grabbed my shoulders and focused solely on me. He studied my face, and I studied his.

_Seven years, and he still looks the same._ I remembered the last time I saw him. What I said to him, and I felt horrible. He had no reason to help me. He had no reason to act like he even wanted to see me.

He looked a little manlier, had some stubble on his jaw, nose was straighter. He didn't look like a bum, he looked like a well-made man. _How had I found him?_

I quickly realized that he was still worried about our surroundings. Maybe running up to him screaming wasn't the best idea, but it was a spur of the moment thing. I tried to fi my mistake, a little embarrassed my outbreak.

"It's okay, I'm sorry. I just-I saw you and well I-I'm going though this thing. Maybe you could-No. You don't-You have no reason too. I'm just gonna-I'm gonna go." I was rambling, and I jutted my thumb over my shoulder, turning to go back to my abandoned car.

"Wait Bella," He grabbed my arm and spun me around. "Is that really you?"

I smiled and spoke softly. "Yeah."

"Oh my god, Bella. I can't believe it's really you." He pulled me in for a hug, surprising me, and squished me like he used to in his giant bear hugs. He felt more solid than before, more muscular.

Realizing what he did, he released me and cleared his throat, looking away. "How've you-uh, how have you been?"

Memories flooded my mind of the past years, and I cringed. "I've been okay. My father passed a few months ago, but I'm doing well."

"Oh jeez, I'm so sorry. Can I ask how?" He scratched the back of his head while he asked, a familiar sign of nervousness. It was weird to see him with such a lack of confidence, even after so many years.

"A drunk driver hit him on the driver's side of his car on his way to work." I replied. I was surprised how easy it was to tell him this.

"Wow, I uh, I'm so sorry." He stared me for a moment, "I've missed you." He confessed. His stance was balanced and wide, but he was running his hands through his hair. He looked confused and broken. He looked the way I felt.

Looking him in the eye, I spoke softly. "I've missed you too, Edward. So much."

"Do you want to grab something to eat?" He suggested, pointing down the street. "I know this really good Italian place, very casual, so, you know, no worries there." He shyly gestured to my get-up and I blushed, realizing I was still in my pajamas. "We could catch up. I don't really have any plans. I was just headed home."

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

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**A/N: Review Please! Lots of love!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Look on my profile if you want a better idea of what something's look like. I've posted some links to some pictures of Bella's car, and the restaurant. Don't forget to review! And I'm sorry for the length! This one is rather short.  
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After parking my car in a more reasonable place, Edward took me to a small Italian restaurant. Holding the door open for me, he walked closely behind me. I realized that I could hardly call this a restaurant. It was more of a softly lit room with a few tables and benches. It was sweet, charming.

"Ey, Edward my boy! Who is this lovely lady?" A large, round man came walking through the kitchen door. He'd be intimidating if it weren't for his bright smile and cheerful eyes. He reminded me of my brother, tough looking but soft like a teddy-bear.

I turned around to look at Edward. "Do you come here often?" I ask.

"You could call me a regular. Everyone here is very kind, they're like family." He smirks at me and then changes to look at the big man with a gleaming smile. I missed seeing his smile. I forgot how much it warmed me.

"This here," He said, pointing to me, "is Bella. Bella, meet Sal. Watch out, he'll hug you to death." Sal comes up and as predicted, wraps his large arms around my torso, picking me up off the ground. Looking to Edward, I mouth the words "Help me." He laughs out loud and pats Sal on the shoulder.

"Alright, don't crush her. Yet."

I glare at Edward in a playful manner. "Yet? What do you mean yet?" I'm placed back on my feet, and I finally get the chance to take an up close look at Sal.

He's incredibly tall, more than a head taller than me, and his demeanor is much softer when you're right near him. His face is round, like the rest of him and is covered with a thin layer of stubble. He had to be in his late fifties with the wrinkles around his eyes. His rotund belly was covered in a stained white apron, and his hands look like they were meant to hold a spatula.

"Go ahead and take a seat wherever. Business has been unfortunately slow lately." Sal cast a sorrowful glance around his restaurant. Sighing he took large steps toward the back of the kitchen, returning to where he came from.

Edward and I take a seat by a window, and I nod towards the door Sal just left through. "He really loves this place doesn't he?" I ask. For some reason, I'm realizing once you meet Sal, it's hard to think him anything but family. He's got a certain charm.

Edward nods, "Yeah, he's devoted his whole life to this place, but ever since his wife died it just hasn't been the same."

"When did she pass?"

"She's been late for about four years now. He's done well with it, but whenever he looks around this place, I know it's really hard for him." He sighed, "He's thought about selling this place, you know, because it was always really hers, but he could never trust anyone else with it. If I had the money, I'd buy it."

Seeing Edward with such dedication wasn't really foreign, though it was still sweet. Although it's been many years since I'd seen him last, I remember him so focused on something that he wanted to do.

He had tried with everything he had to help me, I just didn't listen.

I sighed and remembered my purpose for coming to him. "I – uh- I want to apologize for how we left things. I was confused back them, hell, I still am." I looked him in the eye, and I didn't see any anger like I thought I might.

"I'm not angry at you Bella. In fact, if anyone should be upset, it should be you. I tried to change who you were, I knew better than that. I guess I just wanted you to be as happy as you could and after your mother passed, you just didn't seem like yourself." His eyes were focused on mine and my hands twisted in on each other on my lap. He was right, but he was also so very wrong.

"You're right Edward, I did change after my mother's death. But I was never _me._" I sighed, "I'm still not. I don't know who I am anymore. A woman who works corporate for her father's company but I don't even know if I want to anymore. I don't know if I ever wanted to. I don't even know what I like to do. I'm incredibly tired of telling everyone what they need to hear when I want to say the truth." Realizing my rambling session, for the second time that night, my eyes widened and I apologized. We had just come to catch up, talk about simple things, and instead I dumped my whole emotional load onto him. He probably didn't even want it. He probably doesn't even care anymore.

He was silent, and I couldn't blame him. I gathered any courage I had and told him my purpose for talking to him. Looking him dead in the eye I said, "After my father died, I realized that I didn't know who I was anymore. I was relying on him to tell me every day. He told me what to do, and he told me how to act. I thought of myself as independent but I was so fucking dependent I couldn't even realize it. I went for a drive today. I just kind of lost it. I thought maybe the beaches would help but then I saw you and," I stuttered on the last part, "I thought maybe you could help me. You always knew what you wanted when we were younger. Seeing you just made me think of our last conversation and well, I'm ready for you to dig me out. If you still want to."

He stayed silent for a long while and any ounce of courage I had left slowly crumbled under his gaze. _I shouldn't have told him all of this. We've seen each other for all of an hour. Why would he want to help me?_

But then he did something unexpected, something that completely restored all of my faith within myself.

"I'm still here, Bella. But just for the record, you're the one bumming out over here," He pointed to my pajamas and then held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Just saying." His smirk was wide and I just about jumped over the table to hug him. He was still my Edward.

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**A/N: Don't forget to review! Let me know if you love it, hate it. Let me know if I should keep updating! Lots of love!**


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